Born Backwards
by Eri-Interrupted
Summary: An insight of what really goes on in Effy's head, when she's being all fit and mysterious. A journal that has been given to Effy Stonem back in 2006 by her brother, Tony just as he started his life in college. Events will crossover episodes of Skins.
1. Chapter 1

4th October 2006

* * *

A personal diary? What the fuck am I suppose to write in this? Feelings and shit? My Name is Elizabeth Stonem. Call me Effy or a kitten will die.

My brother Tony gave me this journal. Ever since blood started to rush out of my body, I stopped talking to people. For the past two years, Tony didn't mind much about the fact that I'm not bothered with speech. It was the grand opportunity for him to take me under his wing and teach me the three life essential lessons.

Lesson number one: People are puppets. You pull the right stings and they move in the right way – the way you want them to. Tony is the master puppeteer. I'll be better.

Lesson number two: Attitude. It's all about the attitude. If you don't want to be a fucking pussy, don't be one. Take that fucking leap and feel the adrenaline rush. Don't think, just do.

Lesson number three: Some people are worth getting to know. Such people must be good-looking and carry drugs.

Tony has just started college. He's not going to be around much, is he? Got more pussy for him to fuck around now. Hence, this piece of shit he gave me. He said I might get him worried, if I suppress things too much. I'm going to miss him, not having him around as often, but I don't allow myself to show my emotions in public (refer to lesson number two.) While he's in college, marking his territory, I will be swerving around the streets of Bristol, putting in practice what Tony has been teaching me all along. It's my time to "fly and fucking shine" – as he puts it, and I'm not planning to disappoint.


	2. Chapter 2

28th October 2006

* * *

I almost forgot about this. When I'm about to get emotional, I put on a strong face, smirk and walk away. I walk towards Tony, but Tony wasn't in his sodding room today. He wasn't there yesterday either. Pretty sure his room would be empty tomorrow as well. I'm happy he's enjoying college. He's been telling me bits and pieces of how he's torturing all of the other boys by fucking their girlfriends. But I miss my brother. I knew it was going to be this way, but you never quite realize how strong a hit is before it reaches your face.

I'm 14 and no longer a virgin. I didn't want to wait for love. Love, what's it good for? Absolutely nothing. My parents loved each other once, look at them now, he's a raged neurotic and she's a depressed alcoholic. Michelle loves Tony, she's always getting her heart broken, I pity her stupidity. Sid loves Michelle but all he gets is his own hand to wank at her photograph. Love doesn't get you anywhere. It only makes you vulnerable and pathetic.

Rose petals on silk sheets, candle lights and Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On" in the background. Such a fucking cliché. Anywhere and anytime will do, including in the store room of The Old Fire Station with Ben something. I think he was a blonde. Tall for sure. Hard as a rock. We exchanged saliva but not numbers so I don't know if I'll ever see him again. It's probably for the best if not. We had a good time and let that be it. I wish Tony would come back home already, because writing on a bloody paper is not helping me with my next steps. Fuck you Tony, you should have made me lose my virginity _before _you started collage.


	3. Chapter 3

18th November 2006

* * *

I can't fucking believe this. It's the third time they made me go and _talk_ to a counsellor woman. They don't get it. Nobody gets it. Sometimes I wonder if _I _even get it.

I don't have a problem with speech. I have a problem with the constant pressure of people wanting other people to talk to each other. Why should I want talk to you? Why should _you_ want to talk to me? Words are just letters combined together. Letters have no meaning. They are senseless. They're just markings which people abuse in any way they want.

I need to light up another spliff.

"But _why _Elizabeth, why do you think you withhold speech?" the counsellor woman kept saying in her petty annoying voice.

Every time she talks, I kept wondering, what was up with the fake posh accent she was trying to pull? And what in the bloody hell is she writing on her navy blue clipboard? It's not like my answer differed from the last time she asked me the same question.

"I dunno." That's all I had to say till it was time to go home. She's lucky she even got _that_ out of me. I don't need to explain myself to anyone. I didn't ask to be dragged into an hour counselling session, where no counselling had been done whatsoever.

Take Clara Bow for example. The Brooklyn Bonfire. She was a true It Girl, unlike modern elites such as Paris Hilton. Clara sparkled as one of the biggest silent film stars in the roaring 20's. But then the talkies started, and the films weren't silent any more. And it would have been fine, except when Clara actually had to _speak_, she just froze. Her first talkie, The Wild Party, was a disaster. They shoved mikes at her face and Bow began experiencing microphone frights. Crisis-A-Day-Clara. All that pressure had her locked up in a sanatorium.

Maybe Clara Bow couldn't deal with talking in public, and Paris Hilton couldn't shut up for fucking hours, I reckon if Clara Bow met Paris Hilton, she'd still punch her lights out.

Would the counselor woman have understood that?


	4. Chapter 4

18th December 2006

* * *

Mary saw an angel and he told her she was carrying a child. Mary's boyfriend was a good man (or maybe plain stupid) and supported her pregnancy even if he knew he hadn't fucked her yet. Nine months later, they got on a donkey and rode to Bethlehem. They settled in a cave and Mary gave birth to Jesus Christ. "Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem." They followed a star and carried gifts. And there's Christmas for you.

The Stonems are packing, except me. I merely never participate in family outings. Every fucking year, Dad insists we go to London for Christmas... for TWO bloody weeks! We spend two suicidal weeks together in London. It's his idea of "a good chance to spend some quality family time." Bugger off Dad, will you?

I hate Christmas. I hate the dim-witted smiles on people's faces. I hate the lights, the decorations, the gift giving, the new outfits - they drive me insane. They have 'HYPOCRICY' written all over them. Christmas is just an excuse for students and teachers to go on holidays, for promoters to make profit, for teenagers to get fucked up and for parents to pressure on the importance of family time. No one really gives a shit that they are supposedly celebrating the birth of Jesus fucking Christ.

I'm not religious, for all I know the Saviour could be Clark Kent and the Bible is just another story book. I just can't stand how people managed to superficialize a child's birth. People take advantage of the holiday. It means absolutely nothing to them, or to me, but at least I don't pretend to be a happy gal just because I see a tree lighting up.

Shit. We're leaving in half an hour.

Maybe this year it will be different. It's the first time I'm going to spend proper time with my brother since school started.

Well, since I have no choice but to go on this bloody trip I might as well pack some clothes and hide my stash in the pockets.


	5. Chapter 5

24th December 2006

* * *

I was running as fast as I could. I had to get away from it. I couldn't see what was after me, it was pitch black, but I could feel it. I knew that running was the only escape. Running until there was no ground to run on anymore. I knew I was going to die with a thud, but as I was being pulled by the force of gravity, I wasn't scared. I stretched my arms to the sides and enjoyed the ride with a smile. I knew I was finally going to be free.

Fuck. I was wrong. I opened my eyes and I was back in bed. Still in the hotel, still in London, still 4am and still not over and done with the whole Christmas fiasco.

I couldn't go back to sleep so I got up and went knocking on Tony's door. I had no idea if he was even there. Surprisingly, he was just as awake as I was. We sat together on his bed and rolled a spliff. That was probably the best night I had with Ton in a very long time. He even got me to talk for a while. We schemed and laughed at our parents' stupidity. Then we came up with the best plan of how I could pull off an all-nighter without them realizing. Tony said I needed to step my game a little bit more. I don't usually do what other people tell me to do, but I trust Tony. We're supposed to try out this new all-nighter plan when we get back home from this terrible shit hole of a holiday.

I'm already dreading tomorrow. Pretend we're a happy family day aka Christmas. Even thinking about it is making me sick. I think we will be going to lunch at some fancy restaurant. Hope they will at least have good wine or an attractive waiter I could fuck. Preferably both.


	6. Chapter 6

02th January 2007

* * *

Christmas was shit but nothing beats New Year's Eve. I'm back in fucking Bristol and I couldn't be any more relieved. These are _my_ roads. Here, I can take over control in a fucking heartbeat. Me and Tony, together, we control who walks, who's in and who's out.

We never spend New Year's Eve in London – "streets could get too dangerous for you kids to be on yourselves." Well A-fucking-men to that mother. Sure, I wouldn't have minded spending NYE in London, it would probably have been the best day out of the fourteen spent there, but nothing beats the power in the streets of Bristol.

As expected, we had another fake happy family lunch at _Brewers Fayre_. This time I didn't mind it as much. I knew what sort of excitement was to be followed afterwards. Tony had it all planned out since before we left for London, the conniving dog that he is! He had Chris Miles buy enough pills for the party. Michelle Richardson had to flash her skin and rent a club for the under aged but overly deranged kids. Maxxie Oliver's winning smile came in handy when it came to inviting the list of people Tony set up for him. I'm not sure what Sid's and Jal's duties were but I'm sure Tony didn't leave them empty handed. Me and Tony, we mastered the music. A whole lot of Electronic and Dupstep mixes, more than our brains could handle.

Transforming myself from the good Catholic school girl, that my parents were so fond of, to the dark soul that comes out at night, took time. The clothes usually don't vary far from those little black dresses with fishnets underneath and a pair of Doc Martens, this time wasn't any different. Lots of make-up was well needed to mask over any part of goody-good Effy, I hate being so much. Black eye-shadow, black eyeliner, black mascara, black nail-polish. The tricky part came with the hair. I have long plain dark brown hair. If I wanted people to notice me more than they already have been, I had to enter the scene with a look that signifies Effy fucking Stonem. I teased every strand of hair on my head and supported it by volumizing hairspray, leaving it all big and quiffy. For this occasion I added a piece of purple extension to it all. Only the right accessories were needed to complete the look. A studded belt, a chain necklace and an arm full of black rubber bands. I was ready to have a good time. And a hell of a good time I did have.


End file.
